Out of Her League (26 page)

Had Adam been
permanently scarred by his par
ents
’
mistakes? There was that parental guilt again. And what should she do if that was the case? Evie had no idea how to explain
“
guy
”
feelings, since she
’
d never had any. She
’
d studied the biology, even the psychology, but those classes wouldn
’
t do her one bit of good with her son. What was he feeling? How could she help him? Should she ask? Or keep her big mouth shut?

Upon reaching the Scalotta house, Evie shelved those questions for t
he time being. Lights blazed in
side and outside. Joe
’
s car sat in the driveway. She pulled in behind and shut off the engine.

“
Toni, I want to talk to your dad.
”

Toni
’
s wide eyes appeared in the mirror.
“
Did I mess up, Coach?
”

Adam snorted.
“You won the game, Toni. Re
lax.
”
He put his arm around her neck, pulling her close and rubbing her head with his knuckles—just as if she were one of the guys. Evie frowned. His technique left a lot to be desired.

But Toni giggled and squirmed and looked at Adam as if he were the most amazing man next to Mark McGwire. Evie just shook her head and got out of the car.

“
I
’
ll let you in.
”
Toni led the way. Adam sat
down on the porch and waved for them to go ahead without him. He avoided Joe whenever possible, and Evie couldn
’
t say she blamed him. No sense running after trouble, especially with a man the size of Joe Scalotta.

Evie and Toni stepped inside, but the front of the house lay strangely silent and completely empty.
“
He doesn
’
t have another car, does he?
”
Evie asked, concerned that Joe wasn
’
t there at all. She didn
’
t think she
’d have the guts to come back an
other day.

“
No. He
’
s probably in the kitchen. He fools around in there a lot.
”
Ton
i grinned over her shoul
der as she led the way toward the back of the house.
“
I don
’
t understand it, but he
’
s a pretty good cook.
”

The place was spotless, though without three boys and a truckload of their friends, hers could be, too.
Yeah, right
.
“
Your cleaning lady is good,
” she ob
served.

Toni stopped in the narrow hallway and turned.
“
Dad does it.
”
She shook her head.
“
He says he
likes
it! And you know what else?
”
Evie shrugged.
“
He asked me to show him how to sew.
”

“
Sew?
”

“
Buttons. Ripped pants. That kind of stuff.
”

“
Hmm. I figured him for
a
‘
throw it out and get a new one
’
kind of guy.
”

“
Me, too.
”
Toni tilted her head and pursed her lips, considering.
“
I guess I don
’
t really know him as well as I thought.
”
She glanced into the kitchen, then stepped back out of sight.
“
He
’
s in there,
”
she
whispered, before
scooting down the hallway, leav
ing Evie alone in the semidarkness.

Now, why had the girl acted as though they were on some secret spy mission? If Evie didn
’
t know better, she
’
d figure Toni didn
’
t want Joe to realize anyone was in the house. But why would that be?

Evie walked into the brightly lit kitchen and saw Joe. But not the Joe she thought she knew. No, this was a Joe she wanted to know a whole lot better.

He had his back to her. A good thing, because she probably drooled. The kitchen was steamy with mist and ripe with the scent of fresh tomatoes, real garlic and sautéed onions. And it was hot. Perhaps that was why he cooked without a shirt.

Evie had admired him in a myriad of colored T-shirts, but without a shirt--oh, boy. He had the smooth, olive skin of his Italian ancestors pulled taut over an exceptional physique. She
’
d considered his muscles well defined in royal-blue cotton. They looked much better in nothing at all.

But the thing that really did it to her was the bare feet peeking out from beneath black cotton pants. He
’
d planted them wide on the floor and curled his toes against the ceramic tile, as if trying to draw the coolness into his body from the ground up.

The scene was a sensual delight, something out of a painting she
might hang over her kitchen ta
ble—someday when she didn
’
t have to be concerned about water spots from low-flying cups.

Evie couldn
’
t move or speak; she could barely breathe. What was it about this man that called to a
person within her she had never known existed until he stepped into her life? Seeing Joe like this made her think of dark red
wine, Italian crystal, black ol
ives and blistering sunshine on the water.

As if in answer to her fantasy, Joe reached over and brought to his lips a goblet of bloodred wine. The stem of the glass looked ludicrously small in his huge hand, but he held it as if born to do so. When he tilted his head back and drank, a tiny gasp of arousal escaped her throat before she could stop it.

He spun toward her, swallowed the wine with a gulp and stared. She stared, too, since his front was nearly as good as his back. Though the hair on his head was silver-blond, the hair on his chest was golden. Not too much, not too little, and a perfect complement to the
shade of his skin. Broad shoul
ders, narrow waist, stomach rippling with muscles. He even had the top button of his pants undone, as if he
’
d thrown them on in a hurry after making love on the kitchen table.

Evie blushed, and the spell broke. She could speak and stutter. Lucky her.
“
I
’
m s-sorry. I
—
I brought Toni home and she let me in. I didn
’
t mean to disturb your...
”

What? He was cooking. So why did she feel as if she
’
d walked in on an erotic bit of foreplay? Maybe because his body made her bothered. His lips looked as though she could tast
e the wine if she kissed them— U
h-oh, she was so out of her league here.

“
You got any more of that?
” She poked her fin
ger in the direction of his wine. The top of her mouth seemed glued to her tongue. Adam could drive home.

Joe glanced at his hand, and his face creased, as if he was surprised to see the glass there. Shrugging, he reached into the cupboard for another glass. Evie was unable to tear her eyes from the sight of his arm stretching upward, pulling all the muscles of his back into a different, yet equally fascinating, pattern.

He poured garnet-red wine into a glass and crossed the room. The way he approached made her think of a tiger she
’
d seen once at the zoo, pacing his cage, lean hips swaying, eyes on his prey, so close to her, yet so far, far away.

Joe held out the glass, and his eyes met hers. He hadn
’
t spoken, and his silence only added to the tension between them. When she accepted the glass their fingers brushed, and she started so badly at the jolt his touch caused that she feared she would drop the beautiful crystal goblet.

That fear, combined with the heat in his eyes and the steam in the room, made sweat break out on Evie
’
s forehead. She didn
’
t have any glasses half so fine, and it surprised her a man would take the time to buy wineglasses,
let alone use them while drink
ing alone.

She put the glass to her lips. His gaze held hers. The wine tasted different from anything she
’
d ever had, and she licked her lips so as not to lose a drop.

His gaze went to
her mouth, and she shivered de
spite the heat.

He stepped closer, crowding her in the doorway, looming over her, his chest so near that she could touch him, if she wanted. She definitely wanted. Evie moved forward.

The
hiss
of water on a hot stove made Joe curse and whirl about, then hurry across the room to attend the pot that had boiled over. Evie remained where she was, her body still thrumming with all that could have, would have, been.

He turned back, picked up his wine and had a sip, watching her with eyes the color of ice in a face hot with hunger. Why didn
’
t he say something and end this odd spell creat
ed by the heat and the approach
ing night? For that matter, why didn
’
t he put on a shirt?

“
Don
’
t you have any air-conditioning?
”

He lifted a brow.
“In an old house like this? Sac
rilege.
”

“
How do you sleep at night?
”

“
Naked, beneath a fan.
”

Evie groaned; she
’
d had to ask. Next topic?

She raised her glass.
“
What is this?
”

“
Merlot. Ever had it before?
”

“
My wine preference tends to jugs and boxes.
”

He winced. A connoisseur.

“
Nice glasses,
”
she observed, making polite small talk until her body quit humming. She might have to exhaust several more inane topics before that happened.

“
Thank you. It seems a shame to put something this rich into a jelly glass.
”

She shrugged.
“
Wouldn
’
t it taste the same?
”

“
Bite your tongue.
”

She wanted to bite
his
tongue. Evie gulped more wine before she said something stupid. This small-talk idea was not working at all, but she had to keep trying.

“
You weren
’
t kidding when you said you liked to cook.
”

“
Why would I kid?
”

“
Where did you learn about wine?
”

“
My father. Italian, you know. He used to make wine. Learned from his father, who came over right before the war.
”

“
Which war?
”

“
WWII. Mussolini sent a lot of folk scrambling out of the country.
”

“
Can
’
t say that I blame them.
”

The wine was going to her head. Though she
’
d gone grocery shopping, she hadn
’
t eaten. She wasn
’
t used to wine without a splash of white soda as a complement, and the scent of this stuff alone was enough to make her tipsy. Combined with Joe Scal
otta in a steambath, it set her nerves on edge, caused her skin to tingle. She
’
d come to... What?

“
So what brings you here?
”
He took the question right out of her mind.

“
I thought we
’
d better talk some more about Toni.
”

“
I have to apologize.
”

She shook her head.
“
That
’
s not why I came.
”